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Mar. 28th, 2005 02:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenStarted this at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chirachira's (in which there was insanely good food, much sushi, much fun, acrobatic hamsters and PLZ TAKE ME BACK KTHX). Might be the start of something longer, as sometimes we just feel like long involved Stupid Future Imperfect type things. Also sometimes we all want to try a take on a certain relationship between certain characters in a way that does not suck.
The explosion occurred at approximately 10:13 in the evening. It rattled the walls. Books jumped in their shelves. The Captain-General was not surprised by this. He set his cup aside, finished his sentence, and set his pen down.
“Matsumoto?”
“Mm.” The woman was in the process of straightening on the couch. She pushed her hair back. “What was that?”
The Captain-General frowned. “I think I know,” he said. He stood. “Take care of the rest of this.”
“Take care of…?” His vice started, but he had departed by then, and she saw the stacks of papers on the desk. “Oh. I see.”
She put a hand on her hip. Squinted thoroughly, pursed her lips, and silently wished him the best.
It wasn’t hard to find where the blast had come from. There was a strong line of smoke in the air; easy to track. For a moment he wondered why the alarms weren’t ringing before he discerned the direction to be from a familiar non-residential area that had been cleared for certain practices. This was not a comfort to the Captain-General. He pulled his arm out of his uniform-front to touch his sword and double his speed. He decided he’d like to get there very, very quickly. Preferably before the soot had time to fall.
The area had once been densely forested with a branch of the river running through it and a few rock promontories. It was unrecognizable at approximately 10:23 in the evening. Smoke was everywhere, for one thing, enough that the Captain-General’s hair and haori were stained black nearly immediately. He swept his sword out of its hilt and took a few perfunctory strokes at the air before him. It cleared enough of a path for him to see: black earth, scorched stone, strange line where it all dropped suddenly.
It took him a moment to realize he was staring at a mere portion of the circumference of a crater.
“Shit,” he snarled. Idiot, idiot, idiot. He broke into a run, footsteps stirring up black clouds behind him. He threw an ice bridge off the edge and slid down on it, feeling the air—hot, fevered air blasting his gritted teeth and whipping his ponytail back. He kept sliding as the ground leveled off and it took him a moment to realize the ice had ended. He was sliding on newly blasted glass.
Stopping himself on a hastily erected ridge of ice--which steamed away into nothingness in a matter of moments-- he moved carefully after that. He would need new sandals; his were sizzling. Beneath him his reflection misted up. There was a sound of a sharp crack at the conflicting temperatures. It nearly hurt to breathe. It wasn’t very much different from freezing to death.
He moved, he moved, he moved—and then, through the haze of heat and burning and settling ash, he saw her. She had her back to him. The force of the blast had blown her hair out, and it was ragged black against the glow before her. Her right arm was extended out to her side, and against all odds her skin had remained pale. It was just beginning to show the first patterns of soot. Her sword remained a silver, icy gleam.
The Captain-General’s hand tightened on his hilt reflectively. He couldn’t really be sure. Idiot.
He said her name.
She turned.
He hadn’t ruled out utter madness. He hadn’t wanted to expect it, but he wasn’t so foolish as to rule out the possibility. Ten years wasn’t necessarily a long time for a leave of stability. Twelve was pushing. Fifteen, which it had been, made a good case for the condition being a permanent one.
…he simply hadn’t expected the gaze to meet his to be completely clear; sad, tired, but aware in a way he hadn’t counted on. She was standing on her toes, he realized. It was the only part left of her sandals that hadn’t burned away. Her arm fell slowly to her side, as though the sudden weight of years or the earth she’d displaced or simply weariness chose that moment to bore down on her. Still, she squared her shoulders, swayed, and smiled. She bowed her head very slightly. Her cheeks were red.
“Shiro-chan,” she breathed, and when she said it again it looked like one of her knees was about to give way, and he was quick to run to her, to grab her arm. She didn’t flinch away, nor did she actually really stumble. She set her leg rigid and leaned into his support, briefly, to level herself back up. “Is this good? She told me, she told me it would be good.”
“’She’…?” The Captain-General was somewhat preoccupied by examining the state of the hand curled over his one bare arm. “…Then, this is…”
“Yes,” she said, looking at him. “Yes, it is. I thought. I. Finally—ah.”
“What. What is it.” He shifted, ready to grab her around the waist.
“Sorry about the mess.”
His hand was stayed. He felt his lip begin to curl, an old response. “You.”
“…and I hadn’t expected it to be so noisy..”
He put his arm around her after all. “Moron,” he said simply, giving her a tug that pulled her several steps over and to his side. She let him, which was more the surprise, really. “You’ve probably woken half the city up.”
She laid her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.” The whisper was barely audible over the lingering crackle in the air, but it was cool on his ear.
Hitsugaya flat-out refused to smile. The corner of his mouth turned up though. “…Say that after I carry you back.”
chirachira's (in which there was insanely good food, much sushi, much fun, acrobatic hamsters and PLZ TAKE ME BACK KTHX). Might be the start of something longer, as sometimes we just feel like long involved Stupid Future Imperfect type things. Also sometimes we all want to try a take on a certain relationship between certain characters in a way that does not suck.The explosion occurred at approximately 10:13 in the evening. It rattled the walls. Books jumped in their shelves. The Captain-General was not surprised by this. He set his cup aside, finished his sentence, and set his pen down.
“Matsumoto?”
“Mm.” The woman was in the process of straightening on the couch. She pushed her hair back. “What was that?”
The Captain-General frowned. “I think I know,” he said. He stood. “Take care of the rest of this.”
“Take care of…?” His vice started, but he had departed by then, and she saw the stacks of papers on the desk. “Oh. I see.”
She put a hand on her hip. Squinted thoroughly, pursed her lips, and silently wished him the best.
It wasn’t hard to find where the blast had come from. There was a strong line of smoke in the air; easy to track. For a moment he wondered why the alarms weren’t ringing before he discerned the direction to be from a familiar non-residential area that had been cleared for certain practices. This was not a comfort to the Captain-General. He pulled his arm out of his uniform-front to touch his sword and double his speed. He decided he’d like to get there very, very quickly. Preferably before the soot had time to fall.
The area had once been densely forested with a branch of the river running through it and a few rock promontories. It was unrecognizable at approximately 10:23 in the evening. Smoke was everywhere, for one thing, enough that the Captain-General’s hair and haori were stained black nearly immediately. He swept his sword out of its hilt and took a few perfunctory strokes at the air before him. It cleared enough of a path for him to see: black earth, scorched stone, strange line where it all dropped suddenly.
It took him a moment to realize he was staring at a mere portion of the circumference of a crater.
“Shit,” he snarled. Idiot, idiot, idiot. He broke into a run, footsteps stirring up black clouds behind him. He threw an ice bridge off the edge and slid down on it, feeling the air—hot, fevered air blasting his gritted teeth and whipping his ponytail back. He kept sliding as the ground leveled off and it took him a moment to realize the ice had ended. He was sliding on newly blasted glass.
Stopping himself on a hastily erected ridge of ice--which steamed away into nothingness in a matter of moments-- he moved carefully after that. He would need new sandals; his were sizzling. Beneath him his reflection misted up. There was a sound of a sharp crack at the conflicting temperatures. It nearly hurt to breathe. It wasn’t very much different from freezing to death.
He moved, he moved, he moved—and then, through the haze of heat and burning and settling ash, he saw her. She had her back to him. The force of the blast had blown her hair out, and it was ragged black against the glow before her. Her right arm was extended out to her side, and against all odds her skin had remained pale. It was just beginning to show the first patterns of soot. Her sword remained a silver, icy gleam.
The Captain-General’s hand tightened on his hilt reflectively. He couldn’t really be sure. Idiot.
He said her name.
She turned.
He hadn’t ruled out utter madness. He hadn’t wanted to expect it, but he wasn’t so foolish as to rule out the possibility. Ten years wasn’t necessarily a long time for a leave of stability. Twelve was pushing. Fifteen, which it had been, made a good case for the condition being a permanent one.
…he simply hadn’t expected the gaze to meet his to be completely clear; sad, tired, but aware in a way he hadn’t counted on. She was standing on her toes, he realized. It was the only part left of her sandals that hadn’t burned away. Her arm fell slowly to her side, as though the sudden weight of years or the earth she’d displaced or simply weariness chose that moment to bore down on her. Still, she squared her shoulders, swayed, and smiled. She bowed her head very slightly. Her cheeks were red.
“Shiro-chan,” she breathed, and when she said it again it looked like one of her knees was about to give way, and he was quick to run to her, to grab her arm. She didn’t flinch away, nor did she actually really stumble. She set her leg rigid and leaned into his support, briefly, to level herself back up. “Is this good? She told me, she told me it would be good.”
“’She’…?” The Captain-General was somewhat preoccupied by examining the state of the hand curled over his one bare arm. “…Then, this is…”
“Yes,” she said, looking at him. “Yes, it is. I thought. I. Finally—ah.”
“What. What is it.” He shifted, ready to grab her around the waist.
“Sorry about the mess.”
His hand was stayed. He felt his lip begin to curl, an old response. “You.”
“…and I hadn’t expected it to be so noisy..”
He put his arm around her after all. “Moron,” he said simply, giving her a tug that pulled her several steps over and to his side. She let him, which was more the surprise, really. “You’ve probably woken half the city up.”
She laid her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.” The whisper was barely audible over the lingering crackle in the air, but it was cool on his ear.
Hitsugaya flat-out refused to smile. The corner of his mouth turned up though. “…Say that after I carry you back.”
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-28 08:08 am (UTC)And as for Momo's bankai... kinda thinking along the lines of a fucking mushroom cloud, yes.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-28 08:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-28 08:16 am (UTC)